Scott and Stonebridge: Tracking the Marksman
by QuestRunner
Summary: Scott and Stonebridge are in pursuit of a new threat by the name Marksman, an expert in nano technology and chemical warfare. In their travels they'll infiltrate the Buckingham Palace and a covert island in Hawaii, with a few vehicle chases, RPGs and explosions in-between. With Stonebridge at the Markman's mercy, forced to fight his partner, can the duo face their greatest foe yet?
1. Chapter 1

The day started out normal. Scott and Stonebridge were having a cup of Joe when suddenly an explosive went off near their vehicle!

Their vehicle still smoldering on the city streets, Stonebridge pulled out a Kevlar vest from his knapsack and tossed another to his partner. Like clockwork they heard the staccato sounds of gunfire.

"We're the targets! Let's move!" Stonebridge called out as he ducked behind a hotdog stand, spilling his coffee over his neatly pressed pants.

"Damn! They've got us surrounded! They're firing at us from all sides!" Scott shouted as a round blasted the car door he was using as a shield. "Any ideas, buddy?"

Stonebridge assembled a manly gun from his knapsack and fired off a few manly rounds.

"Follow me!" he commanded as he did a series of kickass parkour moves and landed in a city park.

Scott made a friend in the park, but now wasn't the time or place for flirting, especially when the baddies were throwing around C4. He joined Stonebridge by the fountain and ducked to avoid flying shrapnel.

"I'll friend you on Facebook, honey."

Stonebridge stole a parked motorcycle near the fountain and noticed a suspicious figure on foot. He expertly maneuvered through the gunfire and met up with Scott.

"I'm going after Target 1. You take out the snipers!" With that he pulled on his retro shades and sped off.

"Next time I want the motorcycle!" Scott yelled at his partner's retreating back, just in time to see the Brit pop a wheelie. He quickly took out the two snipers along the rooftop, thinking he'd cleared them all, when—"Shit!" Scott saw the grenade land near his feet and he barely had time to throw himself behind a park bench when it exploded.

Stonebridge coasted next to the retreating figure and drew his weapon.

"On the ground, dirtbag!" he warned, attempting to cut the man off with his stylish motorcycle skills. The mystery man was wearing glasses, an immaculate suit and dialing out…on his cell phone?! Before Stonebridge could react, a kidnapper van darted out from a side alley, heading straight for him! That four-eyed freak had called for back up!

Scott searched for his weapon but the force of the explosion had knocked it out of reach. He saw his new attacker draw near with another grenade ready to fly from his hand. The agent thought fast and threw sand at the man's face while scrambling to his feet.

"Grant, come in, we need cover!" Stonebridge radioed in as the van approached. Silence. "Dammit!" He ditched the motorcycle and retreated through a series of fenced in backyards by foot, hoping to find their escape chopper in one piece. He shouldn't have been surprised when he found Section 20's helicopter compromised…and his location surrounded by hostiles!

Scott sent a manly punch flying at the man's face and cracked his neck before he could release the grenade. He swore and picked up his fallen rifle. "Scott to Stonebridge, come in. Stonebridge, report." Static. "Shit," he said to himself and made a beeline through the park in the direction of the chopper. "Hang in there, buddy. I'm on my way."

Stonebridge grabbed one of the closest baddies in a chokehold, but the punk was prepared and jabbed a syringe into his arm. Michael felt himself getting drowsy.

"Scott!" he yelled as he began to sag to the ground.

Scott had a brief flashback about his time as a Roman hot mess, but then he shook his head and came to his senses. He heard his partner call out his name. In the next second the kidnapper van crossed his sight from his perch across an abandoned warehouse. He saw the compromised chopper and a thug throw a familiar figure into the vehicle.

"For Christ's sake, Stonebridge! Guess I'll have to follow them and see where they take him."

The British agent came to just as the van trundled to a stop. It was dark and he'd estimated he'd been knocked out for at least four hours. Of course his takers had stripped him of his weapons and his favorite shirt! They'd pay for that. Preferably in trunk loads of US dollars. He was unceremoniously tossed out of the van, coming face-to-face with the glasses guy from earlier—obviously their leader!

Not to be outdone, Scott also ditched the shirt to showcase his chiseled six pack of steel. He immediately regretted his decision as a thorny bush jabbed him in the ribs. From his super secret hiding place on a cliff ridge, he could see Four Eyes exchange words with Stonebridge.

"Sorry, pal. But I'm about to crash this party AND do it in style," the American said to himself and shrugged a canister from his pack. He tore off the tab with his teeth and threw the canister next to the van where a deep purple fog hid Stonebridge and the baddies from view.

"Alright, jerk face, what's with the attack on me and my partner? And why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance?" Stonebridge growled as the other man polished his glasses.

"You may call me the Marksman. I brought you here to send a message to your precious Section 20. We're gonna bring England to its knees! And your employers, Sergeant, will learn that not even the best can stop me!" At that moment, heavy purple gas encased the area, and Stonebridge took that time to disarm a baddie and crouch for cover. Good man, Scott!

"Looks like Prince Charming had to come to your rescue," Scott said sarcastically as he hauled the Brit away from Four Eyes. He threw something unceremoniously into his partner's arms. "A spare shirt. You're welcome. And you might need one of these bad boys, too." He pulled a pistol from his belt and handed it to Stonebridge. "NOW can we kick some ass?"

"Hey, I was handling it!" He threw on the offered shirt and delivered a roundhouse kick to the fool trying to creep up behind him. "Would it have killed you to mount a rescue before they threw me in that disgusting van?" Stonebridge pistol-whipped another loser before taking cover against a nearby building as the purple mist dissipated. Where was the Marksman?

"I would've, but I didn't want to be thrown in with your sorry ass," came Scott's retort. He flung himself behind one of the henchmen's trucks for cover. He shot a few rounds into the disappearing purple smoke and cussed as a bullet ricocheted by his head from return fire. "You wanna help out, Big Boy, or am I gonna have to do all the heavy lifting?"

"My bad, your highness. Next time I wake up from being drugged, I'll be sure to think of your convenience first!" Stonebridge rolled back toward the kidnapper van, confident Scott would continue to draw enemy fire. "I think the Marksman is toying with us. Keep an eye out for him! There's gotta be some clues as to what he's planning and I'm guessing they're in there. Cover me!"

"Hurry up, buddy, I can only hold them off for so long!" Scott shouted as he tossed another grenade toward three men flanking him from the right. He aimed his gun to fire and cussed when he didn't feel the recoil. "I'm out! I'm gonna use my sidearm." He pulled out the Glock as his partner took his place by the kidnapper van. "You have 30 seconds before they surround you. Look fast!"

Stonebridge felt something was off. The Marksman was planning something big, but what? And why capture him with the knowledge backup would arrive instead of executing him by the helicopter? The interior of the van was empty, save for the syringe used on Stonebridge. He pocketed it, hoping some useful information could be taken from the fluid and stepped back out into the fray.

Comms were still down, despite Scott's attempts to contact the colonel. The onslaught of bullets forced him to retreat until he was standing back to back with the Brit. "We're totally fu—" His words were cut off by the sound of a large explosion ripping from the kidnapper van. Debris from the vehicle fell around them, narrowly missing his head by inches.

"Please tell me you swiped something valuable from that rust bucket before they blew it sky high!"

"Just a sample of the drug they used on me. Might be something if it leads us to a buyer or location, but it's not much. We'll have to take it back to the lab." The large explosion was more than enough of a distraction for the agents to slip away unnoticed and unscathed. As they weren't able to contact Grant on a secure line, immediate evac wasn't an option. Three buses, a tandem bike, and a couple jet skis later, they found themselves back at HQ.

"What the hell happened out there? We were running blind! Where was our air support?" Scott shouted at the colonel as he threw his useless comms on the stainless steel table. Tech support muttered something vague about radio wave interference then returned to doing important looking stuff on their computers. "Stonebridge got a syringe and I lost a shirt. Can anyone tell me who the F if the Marksman?"

Stonebridge sent the syringe off to their on-base lab and got his injuries from the explosion checked out before joining his partner's debriefing. Colonel Eleanor Grant gave them each a beady glare. "We did what we could on our end. So suck it up, soldiers. Now, about the Marksman…" She ruffled through some highly classified documents before pulling out a thin manila folder. "He's a ghost. Presumably deals in neurological warfare and nano technology. No one has ever seen his face and survived…except you, Michael. That can't be a mistake."

"Relax, colonel. The reason Stonebridge survived is because we handed the Marksman's ass to him on a silver platter," Scott said and lit a cigarette next to a table laden with explosives. Sinclair interrupted the meeting as he burst into the room.

"Major?" the colonel said, addressing Sinclair with a stern eyebrow raise.

"No time, Eleanor. We just received this in the mail." He handed a package to her and she pulled out a timer from within, slowly ticking away the seconds. "We believe there's a bomb hidden somewhere in this facility."

"One day and I'm already sick of this fruitcake!" Michael snapped, examining the timer. Ten minutes. Sinclair eyed Scott suspiciously.

"We were out of radio contact with you both for quite awhile. SOMEONE informed this Marksman character or one of his lackeys of our location—" Michael glared at his superior, effectively cutting him off.

"Stuff it, Major! We can discuss this later. Scott, with me—let's canvas this place and stop that bomb!"

Scott gave the major a sloppy salute before following Stonebridge out of the meeting room.

"I'm impressed, buddy. Maybe you're not such a wussy girl after all." They circled the main floor but found nothing amiss. Scott drew his gun, every nerve on edge. He checked his watch. "Five minutes till we're sitting in paradise sipping martinis with our maker." A sound caught their attention from a rusty door leading down into the boiler room…

Michael rolled his eyes but didn't comment. He knew Scott used dumb insults as a coping mechanism, but the Brit was super cool and suave and didn't have to stoop to that level. They reached the door and Stonebridge pulled it open—no one was in sight.

"Going to the right!" he called, but his body automatically charged left. Strange. "Uh, I mean left," he added lamely, walking further into the room. The bomb! It was sitting on the floor. Stonebridge crouched next to it while Scott stood watch. The intercom system crackled to life and the agent followed Sinclair's hurried instructions on how to dismantle the bomb. "30 seconds!" Michael warned, wiping sweat from his brow. He distinctively heard the Major tell him to cut the blue wire…but he once again felt unable to control his actions and severed the green one.

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for his fiery tomb...waiting…waiting…he cracked an eye open.

"F me, we're alive!" He didn't wait for Stonebridge to stand before he clocked him in the face. "What the hell, man? You could've blown us up! My life goal is to die in a blaze of glory! Not die in a..in a…in a BLAZE!" He noticed a blinking light from the corner of his eye and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Shit! We're being watched!" He aimed his gun and shot the camera from its perch.

Scott's punch sent Stonebridge sprawling across the floor. The Brit sat up slowly, gingerly touching his jaw where a bruise was sure to form.

"What the hell, Scott?!" he barked, which unfortunately didn't sound too intimidating thanks to his goodie-too-shoes accent. He honestly didn't have any memory of the last few minutes, but he doubted any wrongdoing he did would have resulted in anything too serious. He was Section 20's Boy Scout, after all—he was literally always right and stunningly awesome. A closer inspection proved the bomb to be a fake. Wait…a bomb? "I mean, what? What? We're supposed to be reporting in to the colonel! What are we doing here? How hard DID you hit me, you jerk?"

Scott punched the Brit again, right in his large, British nose.

"Don't play dumb with me, Mike! I saw it all! Maybe you're the snitch Sinclair was talking about! Did you and the Marksman share a few beers and make up a secret handshake while I was tracking your ass through the boonies?" Scott ran his hands through his gorgeous, rugged hair to calm his handsome self down. He sighed and helped Stonebridge to his feet. "Forget I said that. Listen, you're the best goddamn soldier Section 20 has. I don't know what's going on in that thick head of yours, but we'll figure it out. Just…let ME carry the bomb, okay?"

"Okay, I obviously missed something otherwise you wouldn't be using me as a human punching bag!" Michael countered, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. A big boom sounded nearby, rattling the various items in the room.

"There was a second bomb! SHIT!" Scott cried as he hurtled out of the room, no longer caring for safety protocols. Michael followed suit, trying to make sense of it all. It wasn't natural for him NOT to remember what had transpired in the last—he checked his watch—twenty minutes. At last, they came to the sight of the explosion…the onsite lab. The syringe was destroyed. Thankfully the lab had been vacated and no one was injured…but who had set the bomb? The last known person in the lab was… "Me." Michael gasped in realization.

"This doesn't make any sense! We SAW the timer! Why did this bomb go off minutes after the timer stopped?" Scott ushered Stonebridge out of the smoldering remnants of the lab and shoved him into a spare room. "Hands up, Harry Potter. I need to search you real fast before the colonel starts sniffing around." He patted the Brit's vest pockets and pulled out a handheld remote. "Shit, man! You must've pressed this sometime after the first timer went off—you've been carrying the detonator the whole time! If anyone finds out…you're dead, buddy. I'm talking like treason, royally screwed, career ending dead! We gotta hide the evidence!" Right as the door slid open Scott threw the useless detonator in his boot and tried to act natural. "And THEN I told her, let's save water and shower together!" They laughed nervously as the colonel entered.

"I don't think an attack on Section 20 is very funny, gentlemen," Grant snapped as she surveyed the damage to the lab. "Especially since you disarmed a fake bomb instead of finding the real one!" Stonebridge began to speak but Scott beat him to the punch.

"Hey, we were being watched! This attack was planned!" Grant rolled her eyes.

"Obviously you two were tailed coming back here. That's the only explanation." Stonebridge cut in before his partner could interrupt and knelt on his knees like a crybaby cribsey.

"IT WAS MY FAULT I'M SORRY!" He wailed until the colonel backhanded him sharply.

"Oh, grow up, Michael! You're the best, sexiest spy we have. No one blames you."

"B-B-BUT….!"

"Enough!" she countered, smashing a manila folder in Stonebridge's face. "Our sources indicate that Queen Elizabeth's birthday bash is being held at Buckingham Palace this afternoon. Marksman and his confederates might show their ugly mugs. Suit up and try not to embarrass yourselves."

Within the hour the hunky studs were departing the two-seater private jet that dropped them within walking distance of the queen's royal birthday celebration. Scott scoffed when he saw the castle surrounded by its palace guards.

"Take a look at Sleeping Beauty's castle. You should feel right at home here, Your Britishness." He ducked Stonebridge's left hook with a swagger. He'd already hit the liquor during takeoff—part of his alias as he planned to cause a drunken distraction in the middle of the dance hall. "Remember, I can't make it inside if I start yapping around like a Yankee Doodle American. You gotta use that dopey, smartass Brit accent and talk our way inside. Then it's open bar time and MAYBE a quick fling on the side before shit goes down."

"This is a mission, not Disneyland. And the women here are CLASSY, Scott—no way in deliciously hot tea would they fall for a wanker like you." Stonebridge had confided in Scott about the mind control voodoo crap but they both agreed to keep that info from Sinclair and Grant until they figured out how and why it was happening to him. Michael wove his way through the crowds and horse drawn carriages and strode up to an official looking guard/bouncer. He mustered his most posh accent and drilled the poor sod with a withering James Bond expression. "We're esteemed delegates with names on a need to know basis and from a classified nation. Everything about us is classified and above your pay grade except for the fact that England is better than America." Security was pretty tight, but Michael figured the guard would be duped by a dash of British flattery.

"Then, by all means, enter!" the guard said happily and ushered them both inside the palace.

The duo entered without incident and Scott managed to mumble a "swell morning, eh, chap?" before his hick accent nearly gave him away. Ladies wearing pounds of money in the form of exotic jewels drew his gaze and it was up to the Brit to redirect his attention as he discreetly speared something sharp into S's wrist. He coughed loudly to cover the American's foul language.

"It's a tracker, DAMIEN. I have one, too. If something happens, we can find each other with these techno watch do-dads that I swiped from the technology lab. If I go astray and plant bombs in the basement…" They stared at each other.

"Well…did you, MIKE?" Silence. It was clear that the sexy six-pack didn't know if he'd already sabotaged the big birthday for Her Highness. "Whatever. I'm thirsty and ready to get smashed. When you give the signal I'll throw myself on the five tiered cake."

Stonebridge muttered something very unBritish under his breath in response before completing his sweep of the area. Most of the party was held in a large, open area, which left the balcony as the most effective place of attack. He made his way to the balcony, peering out across the street and mentally reviewing any matter of assassination scenarios.

"Fancy meeting you here, Michael." The agent spun around at the abrupt creepy voice and came face-to-face with the Marksman! "I hope your friends liked my demonstration at Section 20. Although, of course, you were the star performer. One could say, THE PLAYER." Michael grabbed the jerk by the collar, careful to obscure them both from the view of the crowds and partygoers.

"You son of a—"

"That language, with the Queen present? Tsk, tsk. Those little nanobots in your bloodstream will be a bit more civil, won't they?" Stonebridge scowled and tried to signal to Scott, but he was too busy teaching the barista how to dance the Macarena. "Now, we will succeed in our plan for tonight, but you've got to play your role as well. In a few moments you will forget this conversation and you'll be driven to kill your dumb American partner. Have FUN!"

"Shots all around!" Scott declared, slamming a fistful of knuts and sickles he'd nicked from Stonebridge earlier on the counter. He winked at the barista who slipped him a piece of paper with an accompanying sexy smile. He staggered drunkenly as he flipped the paper over—"CHANDELIER. WATCH OUT." His fuzzy brain was still trying to figure out what the hell a chandelier was when something snapped from high above and the crystal coated ceiling decoration listed dangerously to one side.

"SHIT!" he cried as the posh crowd gasped at his American vulgarness. The blaring of trumpets signaled the arrival of the birthday girl herself, who walked briskly down the center of the ballroom. "YOUR MAJESTYNESS! THE CEILING WHATEVER THINGY IS GONNA FALL!" A swat team of British intelligence swarmed him just as the chandelier broke free from its binding and fell toward the marble floor. They ignored Scott for a moment, allowing him the chance to pull out his concealed weapon and shoot the chandelier in mid air. The impact sent crystal shards flying in all directions and the Queen was ushered into a lavish room for her safety. He slipped out of view of prying eyes and reached for his comm. "Michael, it's started. They just tried to kill the queen! Where the hell are you?" He activated his watch to see if he could locate his partner.

"Scott! What the hell just happened? Don't TELL me you already jumped into the cake!" Michael commed back, trying to push his way through the crowd of panicked hoity toity types. "The crowd's too thick, I can't get to your position! We'll have to rendezvous someplace else!" Stonebridge sidled next to an immaculately crafted pillar and reviewed their options. "Let's meet in the first floor kitchens. Sounds like Queenie has already been moved to a safe location. We gotta make sure it stays that way! See you soon." Michael ended the transmission and smirked. If his bait came willingly, killing his partner would be easier than he thought.

Scott pocketed the comm, took one last swig of fire whiskey, then meandered toward the forgotten gigantor cake with a trembling pastry chef standing guard of his life's one shining achievement.

"Outta the way, Cake Boss," he quipped and made quick work dropping him into a neck hold behind a curtain and donning the chef's apparel. He stuffed the floosy tower hat on his head, swiped the side of the cake for a spot of creamy icing, then tucked his gun into the waistband. "Time to move," he said cryptically to no one in particular then slipped unnoticed into the panicked crowd. He glanced at his GPS watch and frowned. He didn't see Stonebridge's tracker in the vicinity, even though he was steps away from the kitchen. It was only after he fumbled with the swivel door in a drunken stupor that the thought occurred to him that maybe Stonebridge never put a tracker into his wrist at all. Maybe he only did it to mark Scott…as his target. "F me," he drawled and reached for his gun.

The nanobots soon completed their incubation period and were hard at work channeling Stonebridge into the perfect bad guy. They stripped him of his empathy, penchant for the rules and love of tea—pretty much everything that made him an insufferable stick in the mud. But Michael didn't mind! Oh no siree, criminal activities were now cool and hip thanks to his nanobot friends…and first on the agenda was the assassination of his best friend. He couldn't remember the last time he was this happy! Stonebridge chuckled at the American's feeble chef disguise and followed him silently into the kitchens. He aimed his Glock. Party time!

"Michael, if you're here, think about what you're doing, man!" Scott said, ducking behind an oven rack with his gun held close to his chest. "C'mon, don't give me an excuse to whip your ass! You and your bad teeth are better than this!" He knew it was a low blow, but British jokes were too good to pass up. He shifted his balance slightly and eyed a set of stainless steel pots hanging above his head. He saw a flicker of movement in their reflective surface, signaling the arrival of his former partner. He stood and took a cheap shot in Stonebridge's direction, throwing the chef had at him for added effect. "Cut the tea and crumpets crap and get right to the Big Ben of the problem. How long has the Marksman been pulling your strings like a damn Pinnochio puppet? Why the hell do you like Doctor Who? And lastly, do you even LIKE being British?"

Michael looked appalled Scott would even question the awesomeness of his British heritage.

"God save the Queen, Scott! And for the record, no one likes the reboot Doctor Who anymore! They just pretend that they do!" Stonebridge leapt like a wushu prodigy, completing five aerial twists before landing spectacularly in front of his partner. His back twinged a little upon impact but he managed to keep his face super passive. Hell, he wasn't twenty anymore and he would definitely feel THAT in the morning. "The Marksman will complete his plan for world domination and sadly, you won't be around to see the dawn of a new day!" He shoved Scott against a ridiculously expensive freezer and threw a satin napkin at him for good measure.

The force of Stonebridge's shove sent Scott reeling majestically backwards. He pivoted and caught the Brit with a solid right hook. The satin hankie Stonebridge threw covered his eyes for a brief moment, obscuring his vision long enough for his hunky partner to aim his Glock right at Scott's gorgeous, model-esque hair.

"Goodbye, Scott. I'll miss all the time we spent killing countless terrorists in fiery explosions with classified weapons we shouldn't even know about, getting ass drunk on high end priority missions, working out so much just so my arms will look like Hulk tree trunk arms compared to yours and having the best damn friend a soldier could ever hope to have. But screw friendship, I'll be ruling the world!" Scott held his equally muscled arms above his head in surrender and tried to flex.

"Yeah, too bad you won't see the new world either, Princess Buttercup. Well now, how did this get here?" Scott opened one of his hands to reveal a grenade.


	2. Chapter 2

Stonebridge grabbed the limited edition GI Joe brand new mint condition plush grenade from Scott's hand.

"Your disguise didn't work out so now you're resorting to toys? Sadly, I expected as much from you. Although this will sell big on Ebay, so I'll be taking that!" While Stonebridge carefully pocketed the toy, Scott elbowed him hard in the temple and kicked him solidly in the chest.

"Who ever said that was a toy?" Scott smirked as he quickly fled the room. "Sorry, buddy," he muttered as a powerful strobe light from inside the plush toy erupted, momentarily blinding the Brit. Scott's comm sputtered to life and he registered Grant's voice telling him to evac. Screw that—Queenie beenie fee fi fo sheenie was still in danger!

Scott ditched the chef jacket and held his gun aloft to a stampede of big wig British fancy pants wimpsters who were heading to the elevator.

"Not so fast! That's right, I'm American, and this hamburger loving, red and blue and proud to be true Yankee is gonna save Queen Bee from losing her hive! So I'm taking this elevator! Consider this payback for all your damn taxes and forcing us to drink your lousy tea!" Scott shoved his way inside the elevator through the sea of powdered wig pansies. He tossed a smoke bomb behind him to hide his trail and ripped out the wiring in the elevator panel once the doors were shut, stopping the elevator's movement. "Time to climb!" he said to no one but himself but he still felt like a badass.

Stonebridge ran blindly from the strobe, lurching unsteadily from the bruises to his head and chest. His back also began to twinge, reminding him once again that his body would hate him in the morning. The super secret evil cell phone attached to his hip, courtesy of the Marksman, began to play the Mission Impossible theme song and Michael answered the call with swag. He listened intently and ended the call with a flourish. Looks like Mr. Boss Man wanted him upstairs—his long legs propelled him up five steps at a time (he didn't dare take the elevators—some jackass had set off a smoke bomb) and he made his way to an elaborate guest bedroom. Marksman and his men were already cleaning up shop, their work completed as evidenced by Her Royal Highness bound and gagged in a nearby chair. Marksman smiled at Michael's arrival.

"I hope you finished off that pesky American? If not, he will die soon enough. We have what we came for." He jabbed a thumb towards Queenie. "She's coming with us and you, my fine soldier, will stay here and detonate the two bombs we've stashed in the palace." As the detonator was slipped into Stonebridge's hand, a lucid part of the Brit remembered Scott finding a similar detonator on him earlier that day. Stonebridge began to remember himself and fought to regain control from the nanobots. As Stonebridge maintained a wax dummy expression, he caught sight of the Marksman's next rendezvous point and tapped out the coordinates on his thigh in morse code. He had a gut feeling Scott was hidden away and keeping an eye on him...that way if the nanobots forced him to blow up the Royal Palace, his partner would at least have a lead to follow.

Scott shot the top panel of the elevator and forced his way out of the suspended structure with sexy, coordinated skill that was WAY better than anything his dopey, big nosed partner could've done. He scrambled across the swaying elevator to a conveniently placed air duct that he took out with one swift kick.

"Hold on to your wig, Queenie! Rescue is here!" he whispered, thinking how damn awesome he looked crawling through the air ducts with his muscled lady killer arms. The hollowed pathway dipped suddenly and he lost the grip on his handgun, sending it clattering into oblivion. He was about to cuss every word out of his foul-mouthed sailors dictionary when murmuring voices caught his attention. He looked through the pleated screens to the floor below. Stonebridge! He was receiving new orders from his four eyed scum of a boss, something about bombs and possibly the end of the world. Stonebridge was being jittery, tapping away at his thigh. Scott scoffed and turned his attention elsewhere. His former friend probably had nervous energy thinking about all the ways he was gonna kill him later. He saw Queen Bee strapped miserably to a chair like a sad, wilted little flower. He decided that before rescuing her he'd steal her diamond necklace. It was the least he could do for saving the birthday girl!

Stonebridge heard the distinct clatter of metal on metal and coughed loudly to cover the noise—fortunately, Marksman was too caught up in his success to notice. Stupid Scott probably dropped his gun in the stupid air vents. At least he'd know where to tail the baddies—no one in Section 20 would be dumb enough not to know or recognize morse code. He was confident Scott got the message. Speaking of messages…Michael could feel the nanobots' pull on him even now and knew he wouldn't be able to fight off his evil orders much longer. As four eyes and his men attempted to move Queenie (who really was putting up a helluva fight!), Stonebridge snatched a pen and scribbled a note to Scott discreetly on the table. Once Queenie Beanie was secured and they were all ready to haul out, Michael snatched the two bombs and the detonator. The Brit smiled evilly as the nanobots took hold again, saluted Marksman, and left the entourage to place the bombs and secure their detonation. His leader and the others dragged Her Majesty to another of their kidnapper vans and left the palace.

Scott swan dived out of the tight ventilation duct and landed in a smooth defensive stance. The room was empty, save for an expensive wine bottle and a note from Mike on the table.

"Well, don't mind if I do," Scott said with a chuckle and raised the bottle to his lips.

"STOP!" someone cried and the snap of a whip caused him to release the grip and send the 1600 year old wine crashing to the floor.

"F me!" he grimaced and wiped his hands on his pants.

"You're WELCOME," the voice said coldly as the dark haired barista approached. "Marksman laced it with nanobots. If you don't intend to be a zombie puppet like your partner, then you'll do as I say." Scott grinned.

"I have a better plan. Ummm NO. Look, Michael wrote me a letter so he's still in there! I can still save his nano-teched ass!" He read the note: Scott. Hi. It's me. I want to kill you. No I don't. Ignore that, it was the nanobots. But I do want to take out Section 20. No! I would never! But I would… "What in Hells Angels is this piece of shit? Well, are you good or not, Michael? Tell me!" The woman shouldered her whip with purpose.

"Tell him yourself. He went to the royal stables. And take this radio with you. Right now I'm your only friend." Scott took the radio and winked at her.

"And does this pretty little kitty cat have a name?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Nina. I'm the Marksman's sister."

Stonebridge had set both bombs in the now vacated Buckingham Palace and was now setting his escape plan in motion. Traveling by conventional means would be too slow with the current traffic, not to mention the pedestrians that would swarm once the palace exploded. No, he was going out in style and had even dressed the part! Michael heard a rustling noise behind him in the stables and smirked as he finished saddling England's fastest and most awesome thoroughbred stallion horse.

"Scott. What a waste. And here I hoped you'd get caught up in the blast!" Stonebridge tipped his cool cowboy hat in the American's direction while simultaneously flexing his massive arms. Stonebridge's muscles were exceptionally well defined and how in God's green earth the ladies all seemed to flock to Scott was beyond him. "It's too bad you made me the priority, Scott, instead of sweeping for those bombs. BEHOLD!" Michael pressed the detonator as he swung onto his horse's saddle and waited for ultimate destruction!

"Well, it's gonna be hard to blow up a block and a half of the birthday bash without a remote signal," Scott said mockingly as he adjusted his earpiece. "Isn't that right, Sinclair? Good thing you jammed Stonebridge's pretty little remote detonator. My NEW AND IMPROVED AND SMOKING HOT partner is manually diffusing your party favors as we speak." Scott aimed his gun and wiped sweat from his angelic, godlike face. "Get off your high horse, Mike, and fight me like a man!" He heard Sinclair try to argue in his pleading British accent, but he tore the earpiece out and threw it to the side. "No distractions! Just you, me, that pile of manure, and maybe some nanobot ass kicking in-between!"

Stonebridge clenched his teeth and hissed in fury. No one disrupted his Boss's plans! He swiftly dismounted and stalked towards Scott in a rage. No more games! He charged forward, but Scott dodged his powerful manly punch and swiped his legs out from under him. Michael expertly leaped back to his feet and sent a hard elbow strike into the American's shoulder. His partner staggered as Stonebridge did a totally cool somersault flip and landed with his gun at the ready. Hot DAMN if the Brit wasn't oozing sexiness right now!

Scott recovered with the suave debonair of a man too sexy to die and smashed Stonebridge's gun out of his hands with an airborne kick.

"You've got to do better than that, Mr. Darby. Or are you worried about getting your knickers in a bunch?" He tossed a lone horseshoe on the ground at the nanoteched head and shot a blank near Stonebridge's feet. "I'm taking you back…preferably ALIVE and with your whale nose intact, but shit happens. I may decide to break that nose for pissing me off!"

Stonebridge did a manly swivel and dodged the flying horseshoe—which unfortunately left him open to Scott's one-two punch combo. Stonebridge flew angelically backwards into a support beam, hitting his head against the wood. The impact disoriented the nanobots enough for the real Brit to take control! His memory was patchy since the bomb had gone off in the lab, but he remembered enough…like how much of a snakey snake douche nozzle he had been to his partner. To hell with apologizing, the American had replaced his ass faster than you could say "Happy Birthday"!

"Scott, it's me. I don't know how much longer until those robot nuggets control me again, but we gotta think of a plan first…and possibly bring Nina in on the deal." As if on cue, the brunette bombshell sauntered into the stables, bomb disarming complete. "Look, I was obviously in contact with Marksman and I remember coming back to myself a few times but not the specifics. I tapped out his rendezvous point in morse code—what were the coordinates?"

"Coordinates? F me if I knew. And no offense, partner, but those nanobots are real pieces of shit. Can't you just mind blast them? Like if you focus hard enough…" The black-cloaked beauty smacked him upside the head.

"Leave thinking to people who actually know how. I was hiding in the room and saw your message, Stonebridge. It was easy to find the bombs and disarm them after that. Being the sister of a criminal mastermind does have its advantages." Nina brushed past the boys and flipped on a pair of retro shades. Scott scowled.

"Well just shut up! I could've figured it out! I got Stonebridge's note, didn't I? Which was friggin useless cuz Michael doesn't know how to make up his damn mind!" He used his contoured, chiseled arms to shove the Brit, but then felt Stonebridge's hand clamp down on his neck and squeeze. "NINA!" he gasped and she stabbed something into the back of the smexy attacker's neck. Scott fumbled his way out of the choke. "That's right! We're drugging your ass! Tell those nanobots to stuff it!"

The next time Michael woke up he was on a plane. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there or how much time had passed, but Scott and Nina were more than willing to fill in the missing pieces.

"Hey, buddy. You're awake! Done trying to kill us all, yet?" Stonebridge figured Nina's knockout drug was making his memories hazy.

"I—what?! I would never—" Scott rolled his eyes and began to consult a map he had spread out on the floor.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the pilot. Even with two broken arms, he's still able to fly this tin can. We promised he'd get your share of the treasure." Stonebridge gasped in horror then curiosity.

"Wait—treasure? What the hell is going on?" Nina began parceling out—were those parachutes?—and regarded him coolly.

"My brother's secret base is on an island off Hawaii. We're going there to rescue the Queen and find a cure for your condition, MR HYDE. And yes, there are rumors of buried treasure." The plane hit some turbulence and Nina smacked the cockpit door. "Hey! You keep this plane level, you hear?" Stonebridge cringed.

"Hey, give him a break! Think of his arms!" Scott grinned and scooped up the map.

"Party's over, kiddos. And Mikey…Sorry pal, but we can't have you sabotaging the parachutes." Michael felt the sting of a syringe on his neck…and when he woke up it was in a speeding Humvee with Nina driving and Scott manning the machine gun.

"They've got an RPG!" Scott shouted over the burst of rounds from the machine gun. "Dammit, they're going Independence Day on our asses!" He held the machine gun trigger with one hand and helped lift Stonebridge to his feet with the other. "Cheers, Mikey. You're just in time to see those bastards blow us up into American swiss cheese slices." The vehicle dipped to the left and Scott cussed and tossed a flash bang at an approaching jeep. "Hell, our shitty driver might kill us anyway! I TOLD you that woman can't drive!" Nina gave the wheel another sharp turn, causing the hotter than hot sauce duo to stagger.

"Why don't you try to hit a target, Captain America!" she replied with a sneer. Scott clapped his partner on the shoulder.

"That's what our little Christopher Columbus is here for! Mike, can I trust you with a rifle? Just don't aim for my baby maker if you decide to go schitzo or else—" An explosion slammed into the Humvee, sending Scott flying.

"SCOTT!" Michael bellowed, reaching out for his friend, but it was too late—the American was rolling down a steep, rocky incline and their Humvee was pulling farther and farther away. "We've gotta go back for him!" he instructed Nina, but she shook her head.

"We're still being followed! Scott will just have to fend for himself—he knows where to meet us!" Stonebridge's further protests were drowned out by gunfire.

"SHIT!" He returned to the machine gun and eventually managed to shoot out tires and gas tanks until their pursuers were left in the dust. Nina continued driving her crazy ass speed, prompting Stonebridge to scramble for purchase throughout the sharp turns. "Hey, you can slow down anytime, Miss Fast and Furious!" He was battered around so much he felt like a giant bruise.

"No can do. I've got to get you back to my brother before you whack out again. He's the only one who could possibly get rid of those nanobots! Your body is adjusting to my sedatives faster than I thought." Michael gaped in pure shock.

"You're just gonna…lead me to the enemy? He'll just make me turn into his puppet again!" The brunette rolled her eyes.

"I MEAN we sneak into his base, you stupid teabag. If we get caught then at least we have a man on the outside."

Scott bit back a string of ugly words as his body slammed into the ground. He scrambled for something to hold onto before his momentum pitched him over the side of a rocky trench. By the time he rolled to a stop, the Humvee was long gone, with only a trail of dust in its wake.

"F me!" he cried and threw his twisted, useless comm to the side, the only link he had to Stonebridge and Nina. A land rover with dark tinted windows pulled up at the top of the incline and Scott felt himself reaching for a weapon he no longer had. "Shit. Looks like the Marksman's calvary finally arrived." He raised his arms, nursing a hurt knee, as he rose to his feet, when— "Sinclair? Richmond? What are you guys doing here?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Sinclair said as he descended the trench to help Scott to the vehicle. "After you left the copter, the signals got jammed. We had to look for you two via satellite. Thankfully those nanobots stuffed in SB's head act like a tracker." Scott stared at him in confusion.

"But…Nina's the one who planned the mission. She was the one who filled you guys in!" The support tech with the familiar braid shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Scott. We never heard from her after you parachuted from the plane. We think she's involved…and she wants Stonebridge."

Michael was anxious as Nina parked the car behind a tall outcropping of rock and they set out on foot. He didn't feel right leaving his party loving partner behind, but he trusted him. Scott had been looking at a map in the airplane, after all—they must have been scouting out this base. And he was the one to bring on Nina as an ally—heck, she even diffused her brother's bombs! Stonebridge shook his head. His thoughts were so scrambled by the nanobots that now he was seeing enemies where none existed! They traipsed through the rough terrain, slapping at hordes of mosquitos until—

"There!" Nina indicated a gigantic ten-car garage, five-story luxurious beach house complete with a water park.

"Let's move," Stonebridge said super gruff and manly as they both unholstered their weapons.

"You've got to be kidding me," Scott drawled as their vehicle shuddered to a stop in a secluded ditch next to the Marksman's immaculate compound. "She took Michael in there? How in Section 20 are we gonna pull his ass outta this friggin palace? Oh hey, a water park!" Sinclair handed him a semi auto and a Kevlar vest, complete with a radio device affixed to one of the pockets.

"We'll fan out and case the place on all sides. Scott, take the back near the basement. That's most likely where that Nina bitch took our star agent. I'll take the eastern wing and Richmond will take the north." Scott pulled on a pair of shades and scowled before exiting the vehicle, gun drawn.

"Star agent? What does that make me? Expendable?" No answer. "Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just stuff me in a red shirt, why don't cha? Hang in there, Mikey! This ain't no place for no hero to call HHOOMMEE."

Michael should've known they were being set up. That it was a trap! Why he ever trusted Scott was a mystery—that man always let his guard down around women. And this one just happened to be psychotic! Nina pushed the Glock in-between his shoulder blades and Stonebridge continued to trudge forward, following her ego manic brother, who decided to give him a tour of the beach palace before killing him. How thoughtful.

"And HERE is the water park! My pride and joy!" Marksman was blabbering on as they stepped into the park and made their way to a deep pool. Nina shoved Stonebridge once more and he fell hard into the empty pool, unable to regain his balance before the brunette was snapping handcuffs around his wrists and threaded them through the bottom of a ladder. "I must thank you, my friend, for demonstrating the incompetence of my nanobot technology. The effects had such a great start but your body overtook them rather quickly. Now that they're non responsive, you're not much use to us anymore." Marksman purred, reveling in the Brit's bewildered expression. "Yes, you had completely regained control by the time the plane took off. Nina here had to break the pilot's arms, bribe him with fake buried treasure and keep you nice and sedated so dumb Scott wouldn't notice." Nina suddenly turned a valve and cold water started gushing into the pool. Michael shivered despite himself.

"You won't get away with this! Scott will come and make you pay!" Nina laughed.

"Section 20's here already, searching the house. By the time they get to this pool, you'll have already drowned." Stonebridge grinned, despite the water now reaching his waist. "Scott may have been ordered to search the house first, but do you boneheads really think he'd pass up the water park?!"

Scott's radio sputtered to life as Richmond gave a cry. He crouched low by one of the stucco walls and punched the button on his comm.

"Richmond, you there?" Sinclair's voice came a beat later, echoing Scott's concern.

"I'm fine, tripped some sort of wire. The northern wing is compromised. Bullocks, they expected us."

"All this for me? I'm flattered," Scott replied with a grin. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and slowly got to his feet, taking care to massage his sore knee. He took a step forward then paused as a gushing sound reached his ears. "Sinclair, can you get a location on Stonebridge?"

"Negative. The nanobot trail is cold." Scott readjusted the gun in his hand in favor of a pair of binoculars.

"Wizard crackers, I think they have him at the damn water park. Tell me, what kind of crazed psychopath decides to turn on only half of the water for his multi million dollar park? Just one slide is activated and it's only pouring into one section of the pool—" The trio went silent then screamed a collective "SHIT!" "Holy hell on a platter, they're gonna drown Michael Freaking Stonebridge!" Scott hobbled to the park as fast as his knee would allow and crawled under the electric fence. Something smashed into his gut as a familiar vixen lifted the whip with a sexy smile.

"Hello Damien."

Michael wasn't usually the panicky type and his Navy background lent well to the situation at hand…but still. The water was inching above his chest and would soon be at his neck! Marksman and backstabber Nina had left but he couldn't tell where. To get the jump on his team? To leave? The sound of gushing water ironically drowned everything else out.

"C'mon, guys! I'm over here!" Despite having ginormously sexy upper arms and super strength, he couldn't break the flimsy handcuffs! "DAMMIT!"

"MMMMIICCCHHHAAAEELLLL!" Scott yelled dramatically and lunged toward the pool, but a flick of the whip ensnared his left bicep. Nina's airborne kick caught him in the jaw and sent him spinning. He was glad that the British fop couldn't see his ass being handed to him by a 100lb Indiana Jones. "Don't worry, Mikey! I got this!" The American hotty hunkazoid shot off a few rounds before Four Eyes Marksman intervened and raised a gun to his chest.

"Enough playtime, Nina. Let's give him what he really wants—a watery grave with his partner!" An explosion rocked the compound, sending the trio staggering.

"Scott, this is Richmond. I've breached the compound and I'm turning off the water as we speak. Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear. About to get my head blasted off, but no sweat," Scott replied as the Marksman started to squeeze the trigger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate," Sinclair said, his handgun aimed at the back of Marksman's head. "Scott, rescue Stonebridge!" He didn't have to be told twice. He reached the pool and… "F me! Michael!" He jumped into the water as his partner's head became completely submerged.


	3. Chapter 3

The chlorine was burning his eyes and made his vision blurry to the point where he couldn't see his hands. He figured he had about a minute of air left, which wouldn't do much if his friends didn't save him in time—wait! Stonebridge saw a figure in the water come towards him and felt a rush of relief as he realized it must be his buddy SCOTT! Then he berated himself for trusting too easily. He wasn't falling for THAT again. Marksman was probably getting tired of waiting and sent one of his goons to finish the job. Michael hurled himself against the side of the pool as far as his handcuffs would allow and drop kicked the hazy man in the chest. He followed up with a swirly kick maneuver feeling so macho and badass. If some no name baddie who couldn't even warrant screen time was gonna finish him off, then the Brit was gonna make sure he went down, too!

His heavy gear, along with Stonebridge's karate kick, almost knocked the air from his lungs. Holy hell, the nanobots must've mind jacked his brain again! Did they WANT their host to die? Scott's blood turned cold as he realized that maybe the nanobots were fighting back because they wanted to infiltrate a newer host…a better host…a sexier host…Hot damn, Scott thought, no way in four Strike Back seasons would he let himself be whipped like Stonebridge! He maneuvered out of his vest, letting it fall to the bottom of the pool, and pulled out a Glock tucked under his waistband. He clocked his partner once, twice, three times in his nose then shoved him against the ladder. He grabbed one of the Brit's wrists and exposed the link connecting the cuffs. He gave the struggling Stonebridge a quick knee to the gut then squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled the trigger.

It took Stonebridge a moment to realize he could move his arms freely after the beating he'd taken from this asshole. He kicked the jerk hard before reaching the water's surface and sucking in a wonderful breath of sweet Jesus air. Flipping over the pool's edge to safety like a fish, Stonebridge rolled onto his side and tried to stem the bleeding from his perfect nose that was thankfully not broken. He could hear Sinclair and Richmond fighting the psychotic siblings—he really should get up and help them out—but where was Scott?

"Hey, buddy! Scott, mate, where are you?" Stonebridge got to his feet, rubbing at the remnants of the twisted handcuffs on his hands and ran away from his near drowning experience and towards that snake Nina! She did something to Scott—he was sure of it!

Scott broke through the surface of the water and coughed up a mouthful of chlorine.

"For all things Queen and Country, Michael! I thought Sinclair said your nanobots were deactivated!" Scott pulled himself out of the pool, resisting the urge to try one of the water slides. He swiveled his head around, trying to locate his partner. "MICHAEL!" he cried and fumbled forward as Nina engaged the Brit in combat.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Marksman sneered as he smashed the butt of his gun into the side of Sinclair's head. The operative fell to the ground, motionless.

"Enough games! I haven't forgotten about Queenie fo sheemie if that's what you're thinking! Hand her over—and her diamond necklace!" Scott replied. He risked a glance over Marksman's shoulder. "And where's Richmond?" The evil glasses character smirked.

"I'm taking her with me. More incentive for your precious Section 20 to try and destroy me. Which gives me plenty of chances to destroy you." Marksman fired and Scott felt the bullet connect with his shoulder.

"You bastard! You shot me! I'm too sexylicious to get shot by your ugly mug!" Scott tried to push himself up from the ground, but the Marksman pressed his boot against Scott's chest.

"You really should've put that Kevlar vest back on, Damien. Pity. Oh well. Say goodbye to your British boy scout!"

"SCOTT! There you are!" Michael shoved Nina hard, causing her to stagger against the Marksman. His aim wavered and the second bullet meant for his partner flew harmlessly away. Stonebridge gut punched the Four Eyed freak and helped his buddy to his feet. "C'mon, mate, you're acting like you forgot how to fight! Let me remind you that I've fought off these nanobots to submission and almost drowned. And you can thank me for that punk who attacked me in the pool. I think he was trying to strangle me! But AS USUAL I got myself out of that mess! And what have you been up to? FALLING OUT OF VEHICLES AND LEAVING ME ALONE WITH A MANIAC?!" Stonebridge continued to assault Marksman with a barrage of perfectly timed and executed twists and kicks while also managing to berate Scott in his James Bond accent. "I mean, you brought this crusty starfish on our team and didn't even know her? And trusted her more than me? Some friend YOU are!" Marksman chose this time to whip out a super secret radio and call for air support. A fighter heliocarrier rose up from nowhere almost immediately, spitting bullets at the three men of Section 20. Michael hauled Sinclair under cover while Scott cried like a baby about his shoulder. The evil duo were hoisted up to safety.

The colonel slammed a handful of photos on the table in front of her two brooding but still oh so hot officers. Scott tried to light a cigarette but the woman knocked the lighter from his hand.

"Courtesy of the Marksman and his darling of a wife," she snapped. The photos showed Richmond and her Royal Highness zip tied back to back, the diamond necklace nowhere in sight. Scott scoffed.

"Okay, for one thing, Nina said she was the Marksman's sister! And I TOLD that lying jackass to give those diamonds to me!"

"It's called LYING, Damien. She manipulated you to get close to Stonebridge so she could keep tabs on the nanobots! You almost let our golden, shining star, face of Section 20, sexy as hell secret agent Stonebridge die!" his superior retorted.

"Now wait just a minute! I SAVED Michael from that kiddie pool and took a bullet for the man like a friggin rockstar but OH NO all you want to do is yell at me probably because you secretly like my husky American accent!" The door slammed open and Sinclair scrambled in with an ice pack to his head—a friendly reminder of the Marksman's Mortal Kombat K.O.

"Ma'am, we've just received word. Come quickly!"

Stonebridge and Scott followed closely behind Grant, but she spun on her heel and stopped both in their tracks.

"No, not you two. Whatever this is, I'm sending in Baxter and Martinez to handle it. Michael, I'm placing you on mandatory vacation. You've been high jacked by nanobots and almost died—take a break. And Scott, effective immediately, you're on administrative leave until further notice. One more screw up from you and you'll be spending the rest of your days as a busboy at the local Steak n Shake!" Grant continued after Sinclair, the men's objections falling on deaf ears. They had no leads and no backup…and Stonebridge sure as hell wasn't taking a freaking vacation while God save the Queen and Richmond were in danger!

"Who does she think she is?" Scott snapped as he swiped the photos with one hand and pulled out a cigarette with the other. "Everyone knows I'd go for the Cheesecake Factory!" He gave his partner a slap on the back, ignoring the pain radiating from his hurt shoulder. "No worries, buddy, we'll find King Dork and his hotter than boiling lava wife and get Richmond and the diamonds back!" He paused. "Oh yeah, and McQueenie. Almost forgot about her. Seriously, we REALLY need more Americans in this cast!" The door flew open again with a smug looking Martinez leaning against the doorframe. She held up a pair of keys to the Section 20 copter and raised her eyebrows.

"You two coming or not?" The hunky and chiseled heroes exchanged glances. Do gooder, Mc Smarty Pants Stonebridge asked incredulously, "We're allowed to go? For realsies?" Baxter came into view with an armload of ammo.

"We've been made. Richmond must've told the Marksman where our headquarters are. We've gotta move! Their agents have already made it inside!" As they sprinted through the base, guns drawn, Grant joined them with a bazooka strapped across her back.

"Looks like your leave just ended, soldiers. Get to the boat!"

"Where are we going, the helicopter or the boat?!" Scott asked for clarification as he strapped on a bulletproof vest and grabbed some guns of his own.

"We'll split up!" Grant shouted as the echo of gunshots erupted around them. "Just pick one!"

"Okay, in that case I'm going with the helicopter!" Stonebridge called dibs a beat too quickly and everyone got suspicious.

"What, is Martinez your girlfriend, huh, Mikey?" His stupid American partner supplied with an equally stupid grin. It didn't help that gorgeous Martinez was giving Stonebridge the come hither look and winking in his direction. He winked back without thinking and tried to play it off like he got a bug in his eye.

"Yeah, well, the only reason you keep hitting on every bimbo you see is because you've got the hots for Richmond and don't know how to tell her!" Michael grinned as Scott's face turned an angry tomato red.

"HEY NOW—!"

"Enough!" Grant snapped, opening the double doors that led to the outside of their compromised facility. "Stonebridge, your Navy background lends you best in the water, so you take the boat with Baxter. The rest of us will provide air support from the helicopter."

"Roger that!" Stonebridge and Scott replied in unison while Martinez snuck in a "good luck, my British biscuit soldier boy". Scott and the others sprinted to the tarmac while Stonebridge and the kid headed to the docks.

"Just for the record, there's NOTHING going on between me and Julia. I…I mean Richmond!" Scott said as he jumped inside the copter and took his place next to the open door, gun in hand, as they started to take flight. "And what the heck is up with you and British biscuit soldier boy? You do realize that just a week ago he stuck his arm in a radioactive bomb puddle just to see if he'd get super spidey powers!" He received a punch in the nose for his efforts. "Fu…you could've broken my best feature! Chicks dig the nose!"

"Shut up, sergeant, and start firing!" Grand ordered and shouldered the bazooka. "Sinclair, get us lower, closer to the boat!" Sinclair maneuvered the aircraft above water-bound Stonebridge and Baxter who were already cruising down the river, flanked by Marksman's speedboats. "Take them out!" Grant shouted. Scott smirked then released a barrage of bullets into one of the boats, sending it spinning in a fiery blaze.

"HELLS YEAH! Read for round two? I have a nice, shiny AK-47 that would love to say hello—" Martinez shut him up with a steely glare.

"I need you go to help my sexy British bombshell. You're gonna have to jump." Scott gaped at her then started to laugh obnoxiously.

"BRITISH WHAT? OH GOD WAIT TILL MIKEY HEARS—" Grant shot off an RPG round and shoved him out of the plane. He landed in a cool, James Bondesque super roll and pushed Baxter out of the way so he could man the machine gun. "Long time, no see, bombshell!"

"W-What? Did you jump FROM THE HELICOPTER? What are you, insane—" Stonebridge's safety speech was cut short by gunshot bursts from two of the baddies' boats that were flanking either side.

"Nah, just scared of your girlfriend. Did you know she and Grant ganged up on me, professional womanizer, and told me to physically get down here and help your sorry ass?" Scott grumbled as he started unloading shots near the offending boats. Baxter began throwing extra gas cans into the open water so Scott's bullets could create a fiery explosion if the baddies got too close.

"Like I need any help. They probably wanted any excuse to get away from your ugly mug, mate. Unlike my godlike, chiseled features." Stonebridge expertly maneuvered the boat around incoming fire, grenades, flares, and RPGs and was feeling pretty damn awesome when partially obscured fallen debris snagged the bottom of the hull and flipped them all into the icy water.

"SHIT!" the American hunk cursed as his body hit the chilly water. "Mikey! Baxter! Damn it, say something!" he sputtered, watching the flipped boat gradually sink. Neither of them had reached the surface. "Marco!" He waited for a response and froze as the muzzle of a gun pushed against the back of his head.

"Polo," came the lazy reply. Scott flipped him the bird.

"That's for you, asshole." He heard the Marksman chuckle as his cronies hauled him into the boat. The Marksman pressed the gun against S's neck. "What, you and your smoking hot wifey decided not to kill me after all? Cuz last time I checked you SHOT me!" One of the beefcakes tying the American's wrists together double punched him in the kidney to shut him up.

"In time," the Marksman said. "But I've thought of something more entertaining for the moment. It'll be you, me, that Richmond girl and Her Royal Highness herself! I figured Her Highness would like a redo of her birthday party, and what's a party without its guests? It's sure to be one HELL of a birthday blast!" The psychopath leveled a semi automatic at the sinking debris and emptied the clip until the boat exploded. Scott rattled off a list of cuss words in twenty different languages before they took his hidden weapons and threw him in a disgusting fishing cage. "I'm sure you'll find that the nanobot technology isn't the only thing I've been planning. I have one more ace up my sleeve…and it happens to require security clearance from a Section 20 operative. You better pray that you know how to hack into your own system."

Sexy Stonebridge knew he could handle himself in the water, but memories of that damn pool kept coming back and he had to fight to control his panic. He grabbed hold of Baxter, who clearly DIDN'T know how to control his panic, and struggled to the surface with the lad in tow. Just when they were about to break free of the water and take a breath of sweet Jesus air, an explosion knocked them both back down into its depths. Stonebridge thankfully kept his iron muscular grip on Baxter's arm, but the kid went into uber panic mode and kicked him hard in his massive pecs. Stonebridge groaned, thinking about all the shit he'd taken from Scott for doing the exact same thing to him in the pool. Karma was a bitch! When Michael finally gained his bearings and reached the surface, the enemy boats were nowhere in sight and Grant and Martinez were helping winch Baxter into the helicopter. Stonebridge waited for his turn and whipped out his hero face, scanning the water. "Where's Scott? SCOTT?"

The boat zipped along the coastline as the river opened up into the gulf. Scott tried to sleep but the Marksman mini me's decided to do some fishing on the side and tossed their catch into the cage with their captive.

"Ugh, would it KILL you to stop…I dunno…KILLING?" Scott gestured at the flopping fish bodies that gasped for sweet Jesus air. "You know what, screw this! This is MY cage!" Scott tossed the fish through the bars and back into the waters of freedom. Someone struck him with an electric prod and he slipped on a trail of fish slime and crashed to the floor. "Holy bejeezus, beer and tequila! You shocked me!" The Marksman gave a hollow laugh.

"That's for hitting on my wife."

"I thought that was for letting the friggin fish go! And for the record, I thought she was your SISTER, jackass!" The boat pulled into a shitty dock and he was manhandled out of the cage and up a splintery ladder into a tree house high above. The cattle prod forced him to his knees and his arms were tied above his head next to… "Queenie fo Shemmie! You're alive!" She sobbed and said something Britishy. He ignored her when he saw that she wasn't wearing her diamond necklace.

"Now I think we're ready to begin the party," a silky voice purred as the flash of diamonds came into focus. NINA! She stroked the side of his face like a hoe bag.

"Great. I could really go for some birthday cake, sweetheart," Scott chortled before the cattle prod slammed into him from behind. Richmond came into view, prod at the ready, eyes devoid of sympathy. Nina laughed.

"Give me the passwords and codes I need for Section 20 or suffer at your former partner's hands. Your choice."

Stonebridge and company were hunkered down in one of Section 20's bajillion safe houses, feeling the loss of Scott and Richmond. All the Brits lamented the kidnapping of The Queen while Martinez made some pointed references to America, the greatest nation on Earth, freedom and DEMOCRACY. Grant had been talking animatedly on a secure line to one of her contacts for nearly an hour and finally ended the call, addressing the remaining soldiers with purpose. Perfect Michael stood ramrod straight at attention, Baxter tried to imitate his idol and failed miserably and Martinez snuck a hand over Stonebridge's rock hard abs while performing her salute. (Hey, a girl's gotta cop a feel when she can!)

"Everyone, I've just gotten off the line with a good friend and fellow agent – Philip Locke. His people helped pick up our Marksman's trail. While we don't know his location or where they've taken our comrades—" Michael despaired a bit, but kept a manly expression while Baxter openly cried "—we do know that brat Nina is planning a party, most likely as a cover for whatever despicable scheme they have planned. Or to show off her new diamonds—they're both nut cases and we can't rule anything out." Martinez grinned and gave Stonebridge a playful shove.

"Sexy as hell soldier boy here is gonna clean up SO WELL in a tux, I mean HOT DAMN—" Grant cleared her throat and fixed them all with a serious glare.

"Not that kind of party. A costume party. The theme is 'Modernizing a Classic.' Locke and I have decided you all should go as characters from Alice in Wonderland." Stonebridge's confident posture wilted. He could face bombs and bullets, but THIS?! "Sinclair is going as a hip, cool Mad Hatter who runs a tea shop and wears a leather jacket. Martinez, you will be our mischievous Duchess. I'll be a martial arts fighting Alice and Baxter, you will be our White Hare and wear a mask the entire night." Michael waited for a moment, but when Grant didn't continue he asked, "Yes? And me?!" She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "We were running out of characters. You'll be Jack Heart, the Queen of Hearts' son."

"I'm WHO?" he clarified but received no response. "You just made him up! I could be…be—oh, I don't know, the White Knight or Cheshire Cat!"

"You will go as Jack and you'll dye your hair too, dammit!" Grant snapped and Stonebridge had no choice but to go along as they hashed out the details to their ridiculous plan.

"Julia, snap out of it! It's me! Your sexy, dangerous, twelve pack abs, hottie hunkness partner, Damien Scott! We're buddies, remember? I stopped a freaking plane for you!" Electricity tore through his chest and he gave a yelp. "Fine! Michael was there, too! But I drove the crappy car ONTO the back of the plane—SHIT!" Richmond pierced him with another jolt of the cattle prod, much to Nina's wicked delight.

"Now let's get to the real questions," she simpered. "What are the access codes to your satellite and CCTV camera feeds? And, of course, the PIN number for the archived files on the Marksman?" The bejeweled wife snapped her fingers and Richmond began to lower the prod.

"Whoa, now! WHOA! I haven't even started answering anything yet! Don't you dare wave that near the baby maker, Julia!" Zap.

"Tell me the codes!"

"No!" Zap.

"Where are Section 20's safe houses?"

"At Walmart!" Zap.

What is your mother's maiden name and/or the name of your first pet?"

"I'll never tell you, ever!" Zap. Zap. Zap.

"Enough!" Marksman commanded as Scott hung limply from the interrogation. He tossed a bundle at Scott's feet and took the gag off of Queenie (she was being too British and NO ONE could stand her). He kicked Scott and opened himself up to a string of the American's curses. "Get changed. We will be attending an extravagant costume party as a cover for our needs. There you'll tell us what we want to know or the whole place will blow up with you and two hundred guests inside. And my dear Nina won't be diffusing any of the bombs this time around hahahaha!"

Turns out, it wasn't much of a plan. Show up, gather intel, and abduct Nina or her douchebag husband, if possible, to learn more about their diabolical plan AND gain the location of their comrades and Queenie. Michael felt like a walking target in his bright red suit, but the hair dye seemed to have worked in his favor as he didn't seem to be recognized. Yet. He and Martinez, AKA Duchess, were mingling with some rich pricks who knew diddly squat when Nina graced the stage. Michael made to leave his new fffrrriiieenndddss and addressed Grant through his hidden comm.

"Zero, I've got eyes on Nina. She's wearing Her Majesty God Save the Queen's necklace!" A tense pause, then, "No shit, Bravo One. The whole team is literally standing in the room." Stonebridge flushed in embarrassment and turned a shade not unlike his suit when he responded.

"Uh, yes ma'am. Forgot you were on a mission. You're usually holed up at base like a squirrel." He could hear the colonel's exasperation through the line while the rest of his traitor wonderland pals tried to hold back their laughter.

"Well, maybe I should join you boys more often as you seem to royally screw up every mission you—"

"Quiet!" Sinclair commanded as the spotlight descended upon Nina and she began her speech.

Scott could hear Nina's speech from his position at one of the overlooking balconies. He shivered in his nearly nonexistent Roman attire, sexy abs aside. Richmond crouched to one side with a sniper aimed at Sinclair who was all snazzed up in a sweet leather jacket. He shivered.

"Hey, Julia! Throw me some clothes! I'm friggin freezing over here!" She didn't answer, the nanobots rendering her mute. Even with his stunning, perfectly crafted God given hottie bod, he still couldn't shake the bugs from her system. He saw a glint of red and tried to move closer to the edge of his balcony for a better look. MICHAEL? Then he saw something even more frightening, Martinez in a sexy little golden ensemble who kept winking at Stonebridge and blowing him kisses. He saw Stonebridge catch one like an idiot in mid air. Scott rolled his eyes and tried to rise from the seat he was chained to, but it was no use. He had to hack into Section 20 before the end of Nina's speech or him—and the rest of Section 20—would go down in flames.

Stonebridge was having a difficult time staying awake through Nina's boring ass speech, so he tugged Martinez gracefully by the elbow and they subtly made their way to the outer perimeter of the room.

"Zero, Duchess and I are going to continue our sweep. Lower levels secure, making our way to the stairs." Baxter sputtered in disbelief.

"WHAT? That's just a lame excuse to get away from this awful party—"

"Bravo One, Bravo Four, permission granted. Find us something!" the colonel ordered. Martinez and her British biscuit boyfriend went up the stairs slowly and unholstered their weapons when they reached the top landing. They didn't see anything until—

"Michael!" a familiar grating American voice called out, just as Richmond dropped down from a nearby balcony. Martinez looked up towards the balcony and caught a glimpse of Scott's roman attire.

"HOT DAMN why can't those be your everyday clothes?"

"Martinez, not helping!" Stonebridge cried as Richmond took a step forward and knocked the gun out of his hand. He scrambled toward a suit of armor and pulled out an ornamental sword. "HA!" He brandished it threateningly while Richmond looked at him with dead eyes.

"Uh, buddy, you mind doing any actual fighting while you're down there? I'm freezing my ass off up here!" On closer inspection, Stonebridge realized his best friend was strapped down in a chair facing a laptop.

"Well, you don't expect me to fight a girl, do you? I'm a proper gentleman!"

"Let's make this quick, Mikey! Once Nina stops yappin, we gotta get packin! If I don't hack into Section 20 before the grand finale, this place blows up and we are royally screwed!" Scott said, straining against his chains. Ever the prude, Stonebridge parried a blow from Richmond with his rusted broadsword and asked about Queenie.

"No one cares about her right now, my gorgeous, steaming tea cup!" Martinez said, shoving her female comrade aside as she grappled up the side of the balcony to Scott's rescue. She took a few, glorious moments to take in the view. "Oh, praise the sweet God above, Xmas came early!"

"SHUT UP AND HELP ME!" Martinez rolled her eyes and shot the chains off with a huff. She dabbled at the keyboard with one hand, the other lingering on his Roman abs.

"I froze the system. It'll at least give us a head start before Marksman realizes you're missing. Now grab my British biscuit and Richmond and let's MOVE!"

Scott and Martinez vaulted over the top of the balcony and joined Michael in his fight against Richmond. It wasn't much of a fight—the Brit kept nervously dancing around the brunette, afraid to hurt her. Stonebridge muttered a thousand apologies to Richmond as Scott swaggered forward and knocked her out.

"Sweet, we got our girl, now let's get the heck outta here!" Martinez said triumphantly, but the two sexy men shook their heads.

"We have to save the Queen!"

"We have to get those nanobots out of Julia!"

They argued at the same time and glared at each other.

"What, you have a crush on the Queen, now, Mikey?" Scott said accusingly.

"She's one of the most important people in our nation—"

"You just want to get knighted, don't you?"

"Gentlemen, STOP!" Grant's voice cut through the comms. "The first thing either of you are going to do is find out how to stop this explosion permanently!"


	4. Chapter 4

"I might have an idea in mind," Scott said with a lopsided grin and slapped the fuming Brit on the shoulder. "Mikey, with me. Martinez, get Julia—I, I mean Richmond to safety." He tapped his comm. "Baxter, you copy? Do something useful and help out our lovely lady supporting cast. Sinclair, Grant, we're coming to you." Scott jogged down a marble hallway with Stonebridge right on his heels.

"I knew you'd come through, mate. So, how do we stop the bombs?" Scott found what he was looking for; a panel with a hidden combination lock that he'd seen the Marksman fiddle with earlier. He shot it open with ease.

"My fatigues! I knew that son of a bitch had stashed them here along with…TA DA!" He tossed a vial into Stonebridge's hands. "There's no way to find the bombs, dude. Not enough time. But they won't be blowing anything up until the Markman's little wifey is safe. So we're gonna take Nina hostage ourselves…with some help, of course." He gestured at the vial. "It'll be better if you drink it, buddy." He winked. "Trust me." Stonebridge rolled his eyes then gulped down the contents of the vial.

"Well? Now what?"

"Just before they chained me to that stupid chair, they injected Queenie beanie with the nanobot 3.0. The person who drinks the corresponding nanbot nectar controls the bots."

"OMG WHAT? I'm NOT controlling the Queen!" Scott grinned.

"Yeah, you are! And the 3.0 is the Fighter model. Go ahead, tell her to get herself and her diamonds over here!"

Stonebridge groaned loudly and punched a marble statue.

"I'm getting so freaking tired of these nanobots!" He heard a thud from behind a tall bookcase and looked at Scott in confusion. His stupid partner gave him a stupid grin.

"Looks like Queenie's already following your lead! Bet this is a secret room, too—" Scott pulled out a worn book from the shelf and a hidden cache allowed the front half of the bookcase to swing open to reveal a small alcove. Her Majesty had managed to undo the rope binding her hands and there was a huge hole in the wall from her recent punch.

"Majesty, I'm so sorry—" Stonebridge wailed as Grant and Sinclair approached from behind. Grant threw Stonebridge a change of clothes, which also miraculously got rid of his hair bleach.

"It's safe to say we've been found out. Nina just finished her speech—go after her!" Scott and Stonebridge ran to the stairwell railing and saw Nina run off the stage.

"Dammit!" Stonebridge cursed and Scott rolled with laughter when the Queen did the same.

"All right, buddy. Let's take the fast track down!" Scott said devilishly, but both went into freak mode when they saw the distance.

"Well, get on with it!" Sinclair snapped. Scott and Stonebridge exchanged nervous glances then jumped from the railing, landing stylishly on the stage below with Stonebridge still clutching the sword in his hand. Queenie thankfully remained on the stairs while being outfitted with a super impressive gun.

"All right, Mikey! Let's go get that floosy!" Scott pounced to his feet in pursuit. Stonebridge instructed Queenie to watch their six.

"Roger, Bravo One," she complied, locked and loaded. Sinclair and Grant took up arms beside the birthday girl, leaving our two favorite, gorgeous, so hot it's sinful agents to get to the meat and potatoes of the story. They descended the stage and sprinted after the femme fatale.

"I hope she's taking care of herself, Damien. She's my life! My world! And if something were to happen to her…"

"Dammit, Mikey, stop worrying about Queenie for one second! We need to get those diamonds!" A pause. "And Nina!"

"I WAS TALKING ABOUT MARTINEZ YOU DAFT IDIOT!"

"Well, EXCUUUUSE ME, princess! You've got so many girls in your life I can't keep track!" Scott sneered as Stonebridge gave him a pointed look.

"Really? Have you even SEEN the show, mate? I suggest you rewatch Season One—"

"Watch out!" Scott screamed as he tackled Stonebridge to the ground, narrowly avoiding a thin wire stretched across the hallway at chest level. Stonebridge spit out a series of British insults when he realized the maze of rooms behind the stage were all likely booby-trapped. Grant's voice crackled in his ear.

"The Marksman's men are on to us! We'll hold them back as long as we can and buy you some time to find him and his wife!"

"Roger!" They both responded and Michael added, "Give 'em hell, Your Majesty!" Shouts of "take THAT you bloody wanker!" could be heard amidst sounds of gunfire.

"Looks like it's just you and me, buddy!" Scott sounded way too happy for a potential life and death situation.

They tackled the next few traps with ease, eventually winding their way outside to…

"Aw, shit! They have another bloody pool!" Stonebridge swore. Lightning crackled across the sky and fat raindrops splattered the chiseled, perfectly sculpted God given duo. An outdoor orchestra began playing a heartbreaking violin medley before Scott shouted "shut the hell up!" and threatened to blast their instruments with a grenade. Stonebridge spotted Nina trying to hide behind the tuba player and knocked her on her ass with the butt of his sword. "Guess it's time for you to face the music!" he snarled. Scott and Stonebridge laughed at their own pun.

"You could call it your…SWAN SONG," Scott added then faltered as something smashed into the back of his head. Marksman grabbed Scott by the collar, gun at the ready. Stonebridge retaliated by holding the squirming wifey in an arm bar.

"Looks like we have a stalemate, boys," Marksman smirked.

The string orchestra began a breakneck action medley as Stonebridge and the Marksman circled each other with their hostages.

"I have to thank you, Michael, for your participation in assessing the effectiveness of the nanobots. Your female soldier and the Queen benefitted from your failure and now they can be summoned and controlled at will!" Scott squirmed annoying at the mention of Richmond, but Stonebridge smirked.

"I drank your magic voodoo potion. Queenie's under MY control and she's taking out your boys as we speak. She might even defuse your little bombs!" Stonebridge's confidence dwindled as the Marksman let out a hearty laugh.

"Bombs? Oh no—we're way past that. My precious Nina developed aerosol canisters that, when activated, will release millions of nanobots into the air. I'll have an instant army…and it looks like Section 20 will be caught in the crossfire. In just a few minutes, our dream will be realized! It'll be nice to have you back on our side, Michael!" Stonebridge paled at the implications and shot Scott a glance.

"So THAT'S why you wanted access to Section 20's database!" Scott spat as he continued to break free from his captor's hold. "You wanted the addresses of every Section 20 stronghold, base and safe house so that you could release your own nanobots to British Intelligence agents across the globe!" Marksman laughed just as the band reached an epic crescendo and lightning tore across the sky like a golden ribbon.

"Quite perceptive, American scum! That DEA officer may have delayed our progress, but my best hackers are breaking through your flimsy firewall. Everyone you care about—even characters that haven't been introduced to this story and you have no idea who they are, like Esther—will fall victim to my nanobot wave of terror!" A fiery blast radiated from the swimming pool, drenching the stud muffins in glistening water. Queenie somersaulted off the nearest rooftop, bazooka in hand. She slapped Nina across the face before yanking the diamonds from her neck.

"Tell Queenie to give those to me, Mikey! For, uh, safekeeping!" Scott said as he used the distraction to his advantage, elbowing Marksman in the face and stealing his weapon.

Stonebridge continued to keep Nina in a neck hold and watched in awe as the Queen rounded on a bunch of Marksman's guards and took them out singlehandedly.

"Geez, Mikey, what'd you tell her to do?" Scott asked incredulously as he started to brawl with the Marksman.

"Uhhh…to try her best?" Stonebridge finished meekly while her Highness performed an array of aerial stunts and gun acrobats.

"F me, she fights better than you!" the American chortled as Michael tried to save face and failed. "Now why don't you leave the real men to the fighting," Scott continued, indicating Queenie, "while you go in search of this nano aerosol whatever thing?" Stonebridge was about to huff out a really epic comeback that would've put all of Scott's wisecracks to shame when Martinez appeared out of nowhere and fittingly handcuffed Nina to the pool ladder, her head safely above the water.

"Not without me, you delicious British beefcake!" she sang while pulling Michael by the hand to the basement steps to begin their search.

Scott kneed Marksman in the face, crushing the fashion glasses and rendering the madman unconscious. Queenie made quick work binding his hands and locking him in the pool shack next to the kiddie toys. After poking fun at Nina, he scampered after the two lovebirds and reveled in the quest-like music from the band. He descended into the basement with a skip in his step, humming to himself as—

"HELLS BELLS AND SHAMROCK SHELLS, I'M NOT GOING IN THERE!" Scott whined and dug his heels into the gritty floor as Stonebridge pulled him forward.

"Uh, YEAH you are! Stop being a little bitch and help me!" Stonebridge shoved his partner into the room where red laser beams crisscrossed from all angles. The aerosol canisters were mounted by the ceiling, ten in total. Six adjustable mirrors lined the walls in a semi circle, guarding a box in the center of the room with the nanobot serum tucked inside.

"The nanobot cure!" SB exclaimed and gave Martinez a quick kiss. "If we die today…"

"We ain't gonna die, my British biscuit! We just gotta maneuver the mirrors around to direct the laser beams away from the cure so we can reach it. A child could do it," Martinez said smugly.

"YEAH, whatever, we just have to make sure that the lasers don't friggin touch the aerosol cans. OMG Mikey, you're right. We're dead. Let's just leave now and see how much Queenie fo sheenie's diamonds are worth cuz I might have an as of yet undisclosed kid I need to support!"

Stonebridge ignored Scott's bitch whining and took a closer look at the large mirrors.

"We won't have to adjust them all," he declared as he majestically whipped out the ornamental sword like a boss. "I bet this can help us deflect some lasers, too—" Stonebridge's kingly moment was short lived as punk ass Baxter flew down the stairs and landed in an exhaustive heap.

"Baxter? What happened? Where's Julia, you twerp?!" Scott raged as the young techie cowered.

"She, uh, woke up and went all ballistic on me and got away!" Martinez rolled her eyes.

"Never let a man do a woman's job, am I right Your Highness? Now, where did Richmond go?" Baxter shifted nervously.

"Grant and Sinclair are keeping guard over Marksman and Nina, which means she could be anywhere!" Now it was Scott's turn to roll his eyes.

"Or she just followed you here, you moron!" Richmond chose at that moment to vault from the rafters, drop kick the sword out of Michael's hands and send the sexy stag reeling backwards towards the laser beams!

Scott yanked his comrade away from the offending lasers, but he wasn't quick enough to spare Stonebridge's shirt and utility vest, which smoldered from the brief contact.

"Dammit, Mikey! Get that shirt off, quick! The material is burning through!"

"Bullocks!" Scott groaned but quickly discarded the vest.

"Uh, are you gonna help your boy toy, Martinez, or not?" Scott said icily as he rounded on Richmond. Martinez gazed at Stonebridge's nearly shirtless torso and sighed lovingly.

"Yeah, yeah. In a moment." Stonebridge finally rid himself of the smoking shirt remnants—no thanks to Martinez—and brandished his sword. He saw Scott take a punch to the face, like a real man, Stonebridge admired, because a punch like that would've knocked him on his ass for sure.

"Mikey, leave Julia—I, I mean Richmond to me and Baxter. Figure out that Houdini ball buster puzzle so we can save her! And for God's sake, drop that stupid sword!"

"How about I drop the sword when you drop the 'I'm more macho than you' act?" came Stonebridge's annoyed reply as he turned to the laser puzzle before him. It was hard to concentrate with Martinez stroking his awesomely muscular abs.

"HOT DAMN two shirtless guys in one day? I might just die of happiness."

"We all might just die anyway if we don't get to the cure in time before those nano canisters are activated!" Michael cut in hurriedly as he analyzed the puzzle. Besides being a gorgeous man hottie he was also sexy smart and figured out the solution in record time—he was sure it would've taken his stupid American partner ages to figure it out. He directed Martinez to move various mirrors and utilized the metal in the sword to create a clear path to the cure. "All right, Martinez! Go for it!" he ordered as Scott continued to battle Richmond behind him.

Scott, meanwhile, was getting the shit kicked outta him by his one true love.

"JULIA! It's me! The hunkiest number 10 you could ever hope to find in a world full of 5's!" She clocked him in the nose then aimed a kick right at— "Not the baby maker!" he sobbed but before her boot made contact, Martinez jabbed the syringe into Richmond's neck and she fell unconscious into man stud Scott's super toned arms. Stonebridge willed Queenie over—she dutifully complied after a series of acrobatic flips and cartwheels—and Martinez gave her the same treatment. Stonebridge tried to catch the Queen as she collapsed unconscious to the floor, but Martinez intercepted him and held his shirtless body close.

"Mmmmm I could get used to this!" she purred. Baxter saved the day, catching the Queen and her diamonds and lowering her to the floor. In minutes the nano'd pair woke up, nursing a few stiff muscles from their cirque de solei workout while under the affect of the bots.

"It's…over?" Michael asked, amazed everyone survived (even those who didn't even make an appearance, like Ester) and the Marksman's evil plan was successfully foiled. "Yes! WE WON!" He twirled Martinez in a circle and gave her a kiss before remembering his stick in the mud upbringing and tried to play it cool. He graciously took Queenie's hand and profusely thanked her for her help. Sinclair rushed down the steps, followed by a convenient team of science-y soldiers who set about properly securing and transporting the remaining cure vials and nano canisters. Stonebridge, hand in hand with his girlfriend, bounded up the stairs and into sweet Jesus air where he saw Grant leading the Marksman and wifey away in chains. He punched Marksman forcefully in the face, relishing his overdue payback.

Scott and Richmond shared a passionate victory kiss before following Stonebridge and company up the stairs. The band broke into a cheery, uplifting jazzy tune when Stonebridge and Scott both took shots at the handcuffed Marksman. They dumped water on Nina who whined about her ruined hair.

"We did it, Mikey! F me, I can't believe we both survived! AND we got the girls!" Scott exclaimed and pumped his fist into the air.

"You still need to turn in your field reports," Sinclair said, effectively ruining the moment.

"And I expect a full de-briefing by 0800 hours," Grant added with a slight smile. The sexylicious duo groaned.

Stonebridge and his team made their way through the elaborate mansion, Scott living it up with his newfound love and Stonebridge, ever the gentleman, helping Queen Bee at every opportunity. When they reached the stage, Queenie stopped their procession and looked at the two hunky men in adoration.

"You both saved my life! To show my appreciation, I'd like to return the favor as best I can." The grand moment was ruined by Scott's stupid laugh.

"Thanks, Queenie Fo Sheenie! I will gladly accept your diamond necklace—" Michael elbowed his partner hard in the gut as he cleared his throat.

"Will this do, Your Majesty?" he asked innocently, brandishing the ornamental sword with style. Scott whined like a crybaby cribsey.

"NO! I don't wanna be knighted! I wanna be a millionaire!" Stonebridge winked and said slyly, "Don't worry, mate. You're not a British citizen. I'll be a REAL knight—Knight Grand Cross in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, to be exact—and you'll be granted honorary status which basically amounts to diddly squat." Scott blanched as they knelt and Queenie performed the honors, addressing Stonebridge as "Sir" and saying nothing to Scott as he didn't even get THAT honor. Scott sputtered miserably in Richmond's arms.

"All that and I'm not even rich! I think you used your nano mind tricks to force Queenie into knighting us, you prude! You've probably been dreaming about this moment your entire life!" Stonebridge looked appalled.

"I would never…!" he declared, but Scott caught the smirk. Suspicious. "And remember, from now on it's 'sir'," Michael added blatantly and Scott's suspicions were confirmed.


End file.
